


Face the Demon in the Bottle, Sine Metu

by Gadhar



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Expendables (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"They're a bunch of mercenaries."</em>
</p><p>  <em>"No way! We're doing a crossover?" </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Goat versus Minotaur

**Author's Note:**

> Here there be characters and other such copyrighted things that I have no claim to. I did however, write this thing.
> 
> So....crossover? Yeah, I need some kind of dragon or something that keeps me from starting new fics until I finish other ones or, at the very least, keeps me from writing utterly ridiculous things - point in case this fic. It's been awhile since I've written Avengers, so I'm rusty, but writing Tony will forever be a great joy. Plus, I love both these fandoms dearly, so I figured why the fuck not.
> 
> On a side note: FINALLY got my laptop back from tech guys. It's been like a month, feels like a lifetime. I gave up on the hassle that is my phone, and I mean that in every way. I just went off the grid BUT - now that I'm back posting will resume and I'll try and finish all these damn WIPs. That said, don't expect much yet. I'm dealing with some serious personal shit at the moment and on top of that my files are currently MIA, meaning my fics are gone so I have to go play Sherlock and find them. So until then, this will be updated most "regularly" simply because I know where it is.
> 
> Also I know, crossovers tend to be ridiculous, but hey, at least it's not the Skyrim AU of Expendables I have.

Tony scribbled down some half-assed ideas for armor upgrades on the paper. Nothing serious aside from how _cool_ would it be to have _flamethrowers_ come out the _eyes?_ Even if he found a place for the fuel though, he's not sure how he could make it work without interfering with the HUD display. Plus, how safe is that, really? He can deal with danger, but the idea of putting fire right next to his pretty face made him a bit uneasy. 

The file off to his right was open, pictures of the 5-day-old situation caused by their new target spread out. They were really crappy pictures; nothing but a bunch of smoke. You'd think SHIELD would have better cameras. Or at least a satellite hooked up to the Helicarrier that could have picked up better video of this. Maybe there was video, maybe these were just crappy stills. Though, Tony found that hard to believe. Fury was probably just refusing to use the better, more secure, and _faster,_ connection to the Satellites that Tony set up because of how he rigged up the coffee machines to explode last week.

That hadn't been his fault. Seriously. It was just payback for Agent Hewett laughing at him the month before when the coffee machine - _not_ a Stark product mind you - exploded all over _him._ It wasn't like there was any real damage; nothing but soaked shoes, scalded hands, and wet files. And it wasn't like SHIELD didn't have all their paperwork on the computer system already _anyway._

"Stark!" Fury barked like it hadn't been the first time he said Tony's name. It probably wasn't. It usually never was. Plus, Fury had that twitch going on with his eye like he always did when Tony was around. One day he'd have to ask what that twitch was all about anyway. Maybe Fury needed a doctor.

Still, Tony had no freaking clue what Fury had been blathering on about - past what the file said - and no doubt Fury was probably asking him about something completely unrelated anyway. Always trying to set him up. The cyclops freak. 

So Tony just blinked stupidly for a few moments, trying not to let his mouth hang open as he considered the various things he could say back.

He heard Steve say his name, all worried and concerned in that patented _I'm not just Captain America, I'm Steve Rogers and I care about you_ way all the fanboys went for, like it was somehow unusual for Tony to not pay attention and it meant that something was _wrong._

Not that there wasn't. There was always something wrong. Like the fact that his mug was empty of coffee. Or that this chair didn't have wheels.

"Sorry." Tony looked back down at his notepad, scratching out another vague idea for the suit. "Was thinking about suit improvements, a flaming sword actually. At first I was thinking flamethrower eyes, but a sword could be cool. In that classic knight-ish way. And not a sword of _flame._ An actual _sword._ _On fire._ I could probably hook up a fuel line easily enough and-"

"Stark, I don't _care_ about your childish goal of being some," Fury waved a hand, searching for words. Tony nearly laughed about how hard it was for him to actually make a witty comeback on the topic of flaming swords. "You know what?" Fury finally snapped. "I just don't care. Now, as I said earlier, is there any way you can think of - technologically speaking - that would allow this prick to blast down buildings like he does? Or are we looking at a mutant?"

"Or magic?" Thor added and Tony rolled his eyes. _Magic, pfftt._

"There are a lot of ways. He could be using an amped up stereo system, wouldn't be too hard if he found the right equipment. Or it could be some sort of sonic-boom gun, we've seen those before. Or, maybe you're right and it's a Banshee-type guy. Maybe one of Professor X's little kiddies is running rampant."

"Or Magneto's," Clint spat just as Thor chimed in with another, "Or magic."

Tony glared at him. 

"So what you're saying is, we don't have shit on this guy."

"No, what I'm saying, Fury, is that _you_ don't have shit on this guy. I mean, these pictures? They could be showing Brad and Angelina adopting some kid in _Mongolia._ But I got you covered, like always. I'll have Jarvis tap into the satellites, maybe even NASA, for fun you know, and I'll get back to you. Next time, I think you should just use the connection to the dishes in space that _I_ made for you in the first place. Because really, the whole reason I made it for you was so that Jarvis didn't have to waste his time like this."

"SHIELD doesn't need your satellite, or your connections."

"No, you're right. They need so much _more._ " 

 

Steve stayed behind the few mandatory minutes it took to listen to Fury rant about Tony again and how Steve needed to 'keep that damn mutt on a leash' because somehow, in Fury's mind, Tony had turned into a hapless pup that Steve had full control of.

He was wrong.

Once Fury left, Steve stood and stretched, grabbing his copy of the file and heading towards the door. He stopped when he saw Tony's copy still on the table, open. There were a bunch of notes in the margins; various ideas of what the pictures were supposed to show - Steve barely choked down a laugh at _Fury's secret closet of pimp clothes_ \- along with some scrawled questions about the situation of the small town that had been blown apart by this bad guy, and some genuine ideas for how the guy even did what he did. None of the ones Tony mentioned were on here. No doubt everything he said was a bunch of bullshit. 

Steve closed the file and put it under his arm with his own, and then he snatched up the notepad Tony had been doodling on. There _were_ schematics drawn for the suit; one had the suit up in the corner with what Steve presumed to be fire beams coming out its eyes. Then there was the aforementioned flaming sword and...a goat. Steve titled his head. Maybe it was a minotaur.

Steve took the pad with him too as he went into the hallway, finding Tony waiting for him, peering intently at a steel door. "Tony?"

"I need to shave. What do you think? It's scraggly, right? Yeah, it needs a trim. I wonder if I should try a different look. Maybe I should go for cleanshave-"

" _No,_ " Steve blurted, his lips thinning into a frown. "Don't ever shave it all off."

Tony turned, wry smirk with a raised eyebrow on his face. Hell, you could hear it in his voice too. "You don't think I could pull off the baby-face?"

"If I wanted my boyfriend to be baby-faced, I'd date Spider-Man."

" _Ugh._ "

"Yeah."

"I mean, Peter's cool but, _ugh._ "

"Exactly. Mary Jane can keep him. Now come on, we should get back to the tower. Fury mentioned Coulson would be waiting for us."

Tony joined him in step, bumping their shoulders as they walked. "'Kay, but I got to make a stop first."

"Want to shop for a goat?"

Tony snorted. "It was a _minotaur._ " 

 

They didn't get a minotaur (or a goat) but they did go to some cheap toy store that had a fake flaming sword. All plastic. It even hurt a bit when Tony jabbed him in the side with it. Steve didn't bother asking _why_ they were getting it, though he supposed Tony just really wanted a flaming sword. But Steve also thought Tony probably _could_ make a _real_ flaming sword, and it didn't even have to be for the suit, so why the plastic one?

But, again, he didn't bother to ask. He was just happy they stopped at a little-known hole-in-the-wall to grab some burgers. 

"You think there's really a Freddy's in D.C.? One that a congressman would actually go to? In a part of town like that? I mean, they had to get the idea from somewhere right?" Tony said as they rode the elevator up the tower. Even with all the levels it never felt like a particularly long ride.

Steve sucked thoughtfully on his soda. "I don't know. Maybe we should try to find it next time the President calls us in."

Tony's eyes suddenly went wide, gleaming, "You think _he_ goes to a Freddy's? Or something like it?"

"Doubtful. Security would never let him."

"But Underwood goes."

"Underwood is a fictional congressman, I think he could do whatever he wanted, security or no."

"Like security would be able to protect him anyway. What if they ran into power-types? Secret Service ain't prepared for that."

Steve rocked forward, and then back. There was something about the way Tony took popular culture so _seriously_ that these pointless conversations actually amused him instead of annoyed him like they used to. "I suppose he could get Cage to go with him. Luke's familiar with parts of town like that."

"Yeah, but Luke doesn't like the president."

"Luke doesn't like a lot of people."

They stepped off the elevator onto the common floor. Steve halted, Tony breezing on by him down one of the halls, taking a swish with his sword at Clint. Everyone else just stared at Steve, glaring. "Are we late?"

Coulson gave him the closet he could get to a displeased frown. Even after all this time working together, when it came to him, Coulson could never fully suppress the fanboy. Steve didn't really mind anymore. It gave him a lot of influence when it came to getting Tony out of trouble.

Steve took his seat at the head of the table everyone else was already assembled at, setting down his drink and already setting to work on the last burger he had carried back. Tony's incessant talking kept him from finishing off the meal completely. 

He chose to ignore everyone's eyes as he ate, even when Tony came back and draped himself all over Steve and the back of his chair, taking a bite out of the burger from over Steve's shoulder. 

Sometime during the strange display, Coulson finally decided to start the discussion. 

"Since his initial appearance, we've been tracking this guy as best we can, waiting for his M.O. to ping again, get him on the radar."

"I take it, it did?" Natasha drawled. Steve couldn't figure out why she was still staring at him and not Coulson until he heard a soft mutter in his ear. It could even maybe be a snore-

Tony was asleep.

On him.

Tony had fell asleep, standing up, and leaning on _Steve._

He'd facepalm if he could but he didn't want Tony to wake up. At least now he knew why Thor kept stealing glances at him and why Clint was grinning down at his phone.

Coulson snatched Clint's phone, easily dodging the lunge Clint made for it as he answered. "Yes. Three times in fact. The initial incident was in Russia. It only came to us because we had an agent over there at the time. The other two showed our target moving east, blowing up in Belarus and later Mali."

"He went from Belarus to Mali? That's an awfully big jump. What could possibly be in Africa?" Bruce pushed his glasses up his nose, stirring his tea.

"I don't know, Doctor. But we have reason to believe he'll eventually be coming here to the US, if it's not his next move."

"Reason to believe?" Steve repeated. That usually meant SHIELD was hiding something.

"Yes, though, it's not important right now."

SHIELD was definitely hiding something.

"Why couldn't Fury just tell us all this at the briefing?"

"The Widow asks a fair question, Son of of Coul."

"Uh, right," Coulson pinched the bridge of his nose and Steve wondered if it was because he was genuinely stressed, or if it was just annoying that Thor still didn't use his actual name. "Because we just got the information on the other two incidents from an informant."

"Informant?" Steve asked.

"Well, contact, really. He phoned me directly and gave me the information. His team has been tracking this target for awhile, it seems."

"Another SHIELD team?" Clint asked and Steve noticed he finally gave up on trying to get his phone back. Steve hoped Coulson was going to delete the pictures Clint had taken. He'd owe him then. 

"Uh, no."

"What is it you're not telling us?" Natasha leaned forward on her elbows, long fingers coming together as she balanced her chin on them. 

"I plan on telling you. I just really don't want to."

"Why?" Steve stretched his fingers out to brush against his soda, trying to grab it without moving too much. He'd have to fill Tony in later. 

"Because you won't like it."

"If this guy isn't a SHIELD agent, how'd he call you directly?" 

"Because he had my number, Hawkeye. Now would you all shut up so I can finish, please?" Coulson waited a beat before nodding. "Alright, so, the guy who called me is a man in the CIA. He had sent his team out to catch this guy. Originally, he was just supposed to be some big arms dealer or something. But they recently discovered he's a bit out of their league so, after hearing we were after the same guy, he called me."

"Because strange things and magical powers is more your field of expertise than the CIA's?"

"Basically. Look, his team's heading out this way."

"No way! We're doing a crossover?" Clint nearly shrieked and Steve thought he sounded way too excited. He himself was a little wary about working with anyone else, _especially_ if they were with the CIA.

"A team-up could be a glorious adventure? Are they too fearsome warriors like us?"

"This is going to be bad."

Bruce nodded and Steve found himself agreeing with Natasha too. This would be bad.

"Oh, but you haven't heard the best part yet."

"About this mission or this team?"

Coulson jerked and Steve looked around blindly for a moment before realizing it was Tony who had spoke. It seemed nap-time was over, though he was still leaning on Steve, heavy and warm.

"Both, I suppose. You see, we identified the target, or at least, his alias. He goes by Freddie Mercury."

"As in Queen?" Tony questioned and Steve tried to remember why both those names sounded familiar. 

"Well, he doesn't look like the real Freddie, _thank God,_ so I can't say one in the same but it does seem our target is a fan."

"Or had really embarrassing parents," Bruce chuckled.

Thor was looking between them all, confused. Steve sometimes forgot Thor was as clueless as Steve was when it came to things like modern culture.

"And the team?" Tony prompted.

Coulson smiled but it was strained. "They're a bunch of mercenaries."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I repeat. Why is the bald fuck here?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this seems patchy, I apologize. I'm questioning my state of mine when I wrote this. There were multiple pieces and I can't remember writing any of them which means it was probably all done at three in the morning on a Saturday/Sunday/whatfuckingdayisit?
> 
> Anyway, I think I smoothed it out. Regardless, you know when you write a fic and you're all 'oh, this will be so much fun, just humor and more humor and blah blah blah" and then that one character just turns that whole plan to Swiss cheese with his stupid knives and just keeps growling "angst. angst. angst" in your ear like it's a damn mantra?  
> This is one of those fics.
> 
> One if these days I'll get this damn thing formatted correctly, for now, we're half-assing it.

"Lee!" Barney stormed over the rubble, firing off a few shots before skidding down another pile and landing next to Lee. 

The Brit was sitting up, hacking and coughing. Blood smeared the side of his face from a cut and his arm was limp on his lap. "What the bloody hell was _that???"_

Barney tugged him up, letting Lee lean on him until he got his balance and they both went stumbling for cover. Leaning against a ruined pillar Barney shook his head. "Damn if I know. Lee, you fucking _flew_ across the fucking street!" 

"You don't have to tell me." 

"What the hell were you thinking, running in like that?" 

"There was a break in their fire from where I was, you would've gone too if it were you. And if it weren't for..." Lee's voice faded, his hand regripping his gun as he took a breath. "That was fucking weird, Barney." 

Barney bit his tongue before he could ream Lee again. He knew he couldn't do that, treat Lee as though he was different. He was right. If any on of the others, or he himself, could get past the guns they would have. But he wouldn't have been giving Gunner or Caesar a hard time about it. 

Instead he focused on the other thing Lee said. Barney knew what he saw, Lee's body had been thrown like a rag doll but - how could anyone do that? Even Trench hadn't been that strong back in the old days. This was like... 

Barney ignored the thought because he didn't even know how to finish it. Instead he looked back at Lee. The man was shaken, but not showing it. "How's the arm?" He hadn't seen what happened but the way Lee held it was enough of a clue. 

"Fucker barely got me. Just a scratch. I'm fine." 

There was a sudden explosion behind them that left Barney's ears ringing. He swore under his breath, "We should've never let him anywhere near that thing." 

Lee grinned, laughing as he twisted to look over the fallen pillar. another column of fire shot up from somewhere and the earth quaked with it. "Oh, come on, he's having fun." 

_No doubt,_ Barney thought. But he also knew that Galgo would be on an insufferable high when this mission was over. The damn weapon was like a cannon and Barney still couldn't figure out how Galgo had convinced him that he was the one best suited to use it. Because he most certainly _wasn't_ and if anything the recoil should be sending _him_ flying. 

Barney's radio crackled to life, Caesar's voice choked and cut off as he said something about their target and a last building. He got a good enough description of the place and nudged Lee into action. 

Together, they hiked up over the rubble and headed toward the building the team and their target was supposedly in. He'd shoot Church after this mission. He should've never taken the damn job when the spook showed up. 

xxx 

_"What the hell do you want?"_

_"Is that really any way to greet an old friend, Barney?"_

_Barney snorted, crossing his arms against the urge to pull his gun. "You say friend, I say bald fucking asshole."_

_Church's smile shrank a little and Barney felt a glow of satisfaction. "Look, I know we've had our differences."_

_"Yeah, differences. That's what you call trying to kill me?"_

_Church shrugged, nonchalant. "It was just business. Never anything personal. Now this, this is personal."_

_"What, someone steal your CIA-issued black suit and tie?"_

_Church laughed. "Oh, you kidder," He tugged a cigar out of his jacket, holding it out._

_Barney took it and dropped it on the ground, stamping it under his boot._

_Church didn't even blink. "I want you to track down this guy. He's a bad man Barney."_

_"There are a lot of bad men."_

_"But this guy, he's one of the worst. He's...different. Look, I'll pay well, I just want you to find the guy, and bring him down."_

_"Dead or alive?" Barney didn't know why he was even entertaining the thought. It was fucking Church. He should just leave. But the way Church swallowed, the easy-uneasy smile on his face, it was almost like he was...scared._

_"Whatever works. I hear you got new kiddies with you. It shouldn't be too hard."_

_Barney ignored the bait. Church was trying to get to him, like always. He could bring up the kids all he wanted, Barney wasn't going to jump. But he'd do his damnedest to make sure they didn't end up like Billy. "More people, more pay."_

_"No problem. You'll do it?"_

_"First, you tell me why it's personal."_

_"It just is, Barney. It just is."_

xxx 

"This ain't no fucking scratch, Lee," Barney snarled. Lee was twitching under his hands as he checked him over, Doc was busy with the other guys at the moment. 

"Maybe it is a very deep scratch, my friend? Maybe he meant a gash and not scratch or maybe-" Galgo was apparently not one of the 'other guys'. 

"He meant fucking _bullet hole._ Right, Lee?" 

There was a look between Galgo and Lee like- like he was _thanking_ Galgo or some shit. And then there was a subtle twitch of eyes and Galgo nodded and then he was walking away, whistling. 

_The fuck?_

"I said I was fine Barney and I am. And compared to what could have happened, it _is_ a scratch." 

"It's a bullet wound. _Bullet. Wound._ In your arm. _Your arm._ How the hell do you expect to be throwing knives if you keep fucking up your _arm?"_

Lee paled and Barney tried not to look smug. He probably failed if the way Lee started glaring was any indication. But it was true. Lee could've done a lot of things before deciding to storm into where the target was. He messed up and he got shot for it. 

"You don't really have a leg to stand on you know," Lee chuffed, his hand reaching out and settling on the side of Barney's face, thumb playing over a nasty gash on his head. He probably had a concussion. And yeah, he did something stupid and reckless when he got it but the description of their _job_ was basically stupid and reckless. 

He closed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion poking through the adrenaline, soon he'd be passed out. 

When he opened his eyes, Lee had a strange look on his face and Barney froze. _Fuck._ He had leaned into Lee without even thinking. Now what he was supposed to do? Jerk away? Then it'd look like he had a problem with Lee touching him. Which he didn't, but he did, and it was just- 

Barney sighed, thinking quick and grabbing Lee's hand, starting to catalog scrapes and scratches, checking for bruised, sprained, or broken fingers. Lee did go through a wall. "God, we're a mess and we got nothing to show for it." 

Lee's face mirrored his own, though there seemed to be a fair amount of blazing anger that Barney didn't quite feel. "Yeah, can't believe the fucker got away. But we'll get him. I'll fucking _get him."_

Barney raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. No doubt Lee would be on the warpath and Barney wasn't stupid enough to get in his way. "Well, we're heading back home right now. Tool says he's got something for us." 

"It better be whereabouts on this fuck otherwise—" 

"Otherwise, nothing. You're off duty for a bit until you're 100%." 

"Barney—" 

"Don't argue. 'Sides, knowing you, you'll heal by sheer _willpower_ and be all better by the time we find this guy." 

xxx 

“This is bullshit.” Because it was. In every way, shape, and form. all of it. “Magic isn’t real.” 

“Where have you been Barney? Under a rock? The world’s changing and–” 

Barney threw his hands up, shaking his head. “No. _Hell_ no. Magic,” He made sure to do the finger quotes around the world, just to make his point. “Isn’t what put a bullet in Lee’s arm.” 

“Maybe not. But what do you think made him fly halfway across the room?” 

Barney shrugged. Playing through the events in his mind. nothing had touched Lee, that he saw. but it had gone so fast, it always did when the bullets were flying. There could have been someone, a big guy. Even that— 

“Quit think Barney, you know I’m right. These– these _heroes_ are all in the news. Don’t you keep up?” 

“Keep up on what? All there is is war and people dying here or there. Same game every day. All that changes is the players.” 

"Well these guys are new players. _Different_ players. I’ve already made contact. They can help.” 

Barney snorted, shaking his head. This was ridiculous. Magic, heroes, what next? Gods? “You gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

“It’s done Barney. look, these guys, it may be your contract but they are out of your realm of expertise. It isn’t just guns and explosions. This is a whole ‘nother thing.” 

“Tool, you can’t seriously believe this shit. And even if you do, you think the guys will? Or will even want to share the job? I got enough shit right now dealing with the kids and you want be to throw in some costumed wannabes. They can’t do what we do.” 

“And you can’t do what they do. No arguments Barn, you’re going to New York.” 

xxx 

“This is bullshit! _New York?_ The bastard’s running around in our own backyard and you want to go to the blood Big Apple?” 

“Tool says we have to, Lee. I had him check everything. I’m just going with it.” 

“Oh, don't pretend like this doesn't bother you. I know you. You argued. you just lost.” 

Barney smiled, loading the next crate on the plane. “I did. And, yes, I did. But you know, Tool doesn't usually call the shots and now he is. I feel obliged to follow his lead.” 

“I think the smoke from that damn pipe of his is going to his head.” 

“Even so. Look, these people say they can help and they don't even want a slice of the money. I’m not asking you to trust them Lee.” 

Lee huffed, the way his shoulders had ridden up reminded Barney of a cat. A wet, hissing dangerous cat. “Then what are you asking?” 

Barney put his hands down on either side of Lee, leaning in. “Help me keep the guys in line.” 

“And?” 

“And play nice.” Barney chuckled at Lee’s indignant look, the Brit shoving at his shoulders. “Alright come on, get your crippled ass off the crate, I need to load it up.” 

xxx 

"Why the fuck is _he_ here?" 

Barney sighed. Fucking Church. He could accept taking the job after Tool checked it all out and practically ordered him to go. But no one had ever said Church was coming _along_ Barney stepped close enough to Lee that he could grab the Brit's knife-hand in case he tried to knife Church in the neck. Not that he could blame Lee, but Church was the one paying them and they really didn't need CIA heat bearing down on them. 

Plus, there'd be blood everywhere and Barney knew Lee loved that shirt. 

"And hello to you too, Christmas. I see you haven't changed a bit." 

"I repeat. Why is the bald fuck _here?"_

"Cool it, Lee." Barney put himself between Church and Lee, at an angle so it wasn't obvious. Church's face told him he got it though and Lee....just looked utterly _pissed._ "He's the guy that hired us." 

_"What?"_

"Barney, you lose a screw somewhere?" 

"That suggests he had any to begin with and obviously he doesn't if he's getting in bed with this guy again." 

Barney held up his hands, casting a pleading glance at Tool who was hanging around the outskirts of their little merry group. He got nothing but Tool's amused puff on his pipe. Big help. "Alright, alright, look guys, Church came to me and I decided the mission was worth the risk." 

"The usual risk, or the risk of him trying to kill us again?" 

"Both, Toll. And for your information, I have some screws left Caesar, and I haven't lost any recently." 

"This is wrong, Barney, working for _him."_

"We already started the mission, Lee." 

"So? Fuck him, we'll get this bastard without pay. He needs to go _down."_

_"Exactly."_

Barney turned, when the fuck did Church get the idea that it would be good for him to start talking? "Shut up." 

"No wait, hear me out. Christmas, you saw how bad this guy is. But you wouldn't know about him if it weren't for me. You don't want me involved, that's fine. I'm just paying the cash." 

"Just paying the-" Barney saw Lee's jaw clench, saw his shoulders rise up and strain against his shirt. He could already feel the danger lurking around Lee, and judging by the way all the guy's took a step back they could feel it too. Sometimes Lee made Barney's skin crawl. _"Just paying the money?_ Of course you're just paying the damn money. You don't have the fucking stones to do it yourself! You're a back-stabbing prick with no interest in getting bad guys off the street. You just want them out of your way! Like you wanted us gone! How the fuck do we know you aren't going to pull that same shit again and-" 

"Lee!" Barney grabbed his shoulder, made Lee face him, hoping he could stop this tide of anger before - fuck he didn't know. It wasn't like all Lee's concerns hadn't passed through his own head, but Church had connections and Barney wanted to get this prick off the face of the world if he could. He didn't need Lee losing his head. "Calm down, Church is—" 

"HE GOT BILLY KILLED!" 

It couldn't get colder if a blizzard kicked up and the temp dropped below negative twenty. That old, familar, ugly guilt reared its head inside Barney's chest, claws piercing his heart and it took all he had not to flinch. Billy. He hadn't forgotten, and he certainly didn't need Lee bringing it up and using the kid's death to make a point. 

Barney was surprised though, at how easily Lee's tide of anger seemed to fade away to bleary embers against the cold inside him, like he'd been drenched in ice water. All the anger Barney thought would come roaring out of him like fire, didn't. No. He just stood firm, cold fury on his face against the heavy, burning silence Lee's angry outburst had created. 

Distantly he thought of opposite forces, fire and ice, him and Lee, so different and yet so similar. Still, they didn't have time for this bullshit and if he didn't shut Lee down fast, this was never going to work. 

"Plane, Lee. Go now." There must have been something in his face, maybe in the way he said the words but whatever resistence he expected Lee to put up, he didn't get. In fact, Lee paled, eyes widening for the briefest of seconds before narrowing into something Barney hadn't seen on Lee's face for a long time. At least not towards him. 

Distrust. 

Lee swiveled on the heel of his boot, stomping up into the plane. It wasn't childish petulance, no, Barney knew what heavy footsteps from Lee meant. Loss of control. Too much emotion pushing against all the walls Lee had constructed in himself, the walls that kept Lee sharped and focused, a soldier. The walls that made him deadly. 

If they were cracking, they were all fucked. 

"I can fly in separate, Barney. I'll text you the meet place." 

"This guy good?" Barney asked, though his eyes never wandered away from the loading ramp of the plane. 

"If by good you mean skills, then yeah. If you mean trustworthy, hell Barney, this guy ain't nothing like me. He's an idealist. You'll love him." 

Barney got the guys to start loading the plane, making sure they were ready for take-off, but they all knew it was just an excuse to give him and Lee time to "sort their shit out", as Caesar put it. 

Lee was sitting in the co-pilot seat, though there was an awkwardness to it, and he shifted around, uncomfortable. Even trying to appear calm he was rigid and tense, and with one arm out of commission Lee didn't seem to know what to do with the other one. 

Barney dropped into his seat, noting the way Lee's hand ended up clenching his knee—shaking. Great. Really great. 

"I know you don't like him. I don't like him either. And this mission, it ain't about him. This prick we're hunting killed a whole village full of people, of _kids._ That's what this mission is about Lee, you focus on that." 

"But he's right," Lee ground out and Barney did him the favor of not looking at him. Not witnessing the anger and emotion rippling on his face and skin. "We wouldn't even know about this guy if not for him." 

"That's what this is about, Lee?" 

"That's what this is about." 

"Look," Barney leaned forward, arms on the dash. "I didn't even know he was alive, you know? After Drummer said he was out I figured CIA probably covered their own ass, but here he was, calling me up. So who fucking knows. But that doesn't matter. I talked to him Lee, about this, though I originally had the full intention of blowing out the back of his head. But you didn't see him, didn't see the _fear._ This ain't business for him. It's a favor." 

"So no justification. What. He just calls you up and you decide to help this fuck because he's—he's _scared?_ Fuck that." 

"No. I'm not going to justify it. I shouldn't have to. Not with you." 

"Well you do, this time you do." 

He could remember a time where that would never have happened. Where Lee would follow him to the ends of the earth, the depths of hell, without a single question or doubt. He could remember a time where Lee never would have held him in distrust either, disbelief. Things change it seemed. Though Barney couldn't help thinking that those had been things that were never supposed to change. Him and Lee were never supposed to change. 

"I can't, Lee. I don't..." 

"Is it guilt? What. He kills Billy and you—" 

"Stop. Vilain killed Billy." 

"Barney—" 

"Stop! You don't get to do that. He's not a fucking tool, Lee. You don't get to bring Billy into this, you don't get to manipulate me by holding that over my fucking head. You don't...you can't..." 

"Sorry." 

Barney looked up, caught Lee's eyes and felt the sincerity even with all the anger under it. 

"Sorry. You're right but..." 

"I'm not him, Lee. That's what this is. He tried to kills us. He turned his back on us. He doesn't deserve our help. But he needs it and I'm not him. I won't turn my back on him. That's what this is. That's all this is." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 


End file.
